


The Play's the Thing

by helptheturtles



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Theatre, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, One Shot, Reader-Insert, Self-Insert, julian's a dork and so are you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 20:12:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13418766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helptheturtles/pseuds/helptheturtles
Summary: Everything goes wrong on opening night when Nadia sprains her ankle. You certainly weren't expecting to fill-in as the lead role.





	The Play's the Thing

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was requested by a friend of mine, and is also my first time writing for The Arcana! Julian's my favorite but I would also absolutely punch him in his smug face.

Opening nights are always full of nerves. You’ve worked on props for multiple shows now, but you never lose those butterflies for when the curtain first rises. Everyone else seems to feel the same way. As you triple-check the prop table, you listen to the cast and crew chatter about last-minute preparations. You look up when you hear a set of footsteps approaching.

“Ready for the big day?” It’s Portia, the costume designer and your closest friend through the production. The two of you work well together, both with a creative eye.

“As ready as I can be,” you say, glancing at the table one last time.

Portia follows your gaze. “Are you kidding? You’ve got everything on that table lined up perfectly.” She grabs your shoulders. “You’re going to do _great_.”

You smile. Portia always knows what to say. You start to return the sentiment when someone catches your eye over Portia’s shoulder. A tall figure approaches you and leans against the prop table.

“Have you seen my mask?” Julian asks. “I thought I put it backstage after the dress rehearsal yesterday.”

The butterflies are back. “No worries, I found it,” you say, pointing to the mask on the table.

“Oh, excellent,” he says. His eyebrow rises as he looks over the other props. “This might be the most organized prop table I’ve seen. I’m impressed.” With a sheepish look, he adds, “If I was in charge of props, this entire show would be chaos.”

“Yeah, it would look like your room when you were little,” Portia says. “Total disaster.”

A bit of flush creeps up on Julian’s checks. His eyes flick to you for a moment before he clears his throat. “Well, I, ah, ought to get in position,” he says. “Best of luck to you both.”

“Same to you, break a leg!” you say.

As Julian walks away, you glance back at Portia. She’s giving you an odd look, the corner of her mouth turned into vicious smirk.

“So when are you gonna ask him out?”

You feel a shock travel up and down your spine. “Wh-where did you get that idea?” you sputter out with a laugh.

Portia crosses her arms, clearly unimpressed. “Please. It’s not hard to read the room. You two couldn’t be more obvious.” She rolls her eyes. “Or oblivious.”

It’s true you’d had your eye on Julian for a while now. Because he was playing Damien, the lead male, you often couldn’t chat with him for extended periods of time. About a month ago, though, he’d gotten in the habit of seeking you out during rehearsal breaks, and you quickly realized how polite and charming his was. He always made you laugh backstage, and the two of you had more in common than you’d expected. He often said you were a breath of fresh air from all the “drama” of the actors, even though you thought he could be pretty dramatic himself.

You swallow hard. “Do you think…uh…you think he-?”

Before you can finish your question, a loud yell resonates from the other side of the stage. Portia’s smug expression immediately pales. Without another word, you both rush over to see the source of the commotion.

Surrounded by the cast and crew, Naida sits on the floor, hands clamped around her ankle. She hisses through her teeth as Asra kneels by her side.

“Asra, I can _do_ this!” she says, glaring daggers at the director.

“Absolutely not,” Asra responds. “You can barely walk as it is.”

“But the show-”

“Can _wait_ ,” says Asra. He turns to Muriel, head of the show’s running crew. “Help get her backstage. Wrap a towel with ice from the water cooler and press it to her ankle. Make sure it’s elevated.”

Muriel nods and bends down to bring Nadia to her feet. He wraps an arm around her waist and starts walking her toward the dressing rooms.

“And stop her if she tries to walk back onstage!” Asra calls after them. You can hear Nadia cursing in response.

As soon as Muriel and Nadia are out of sight, Asra lets out a long sigh and curls his fingers into his hair. Everyone else remains silent. The gravity of the situation isn’t lost on anyone – Nadia played Blair, one of the leads. Without her, there would be no show on opening night.

“Damn budget cuts. This is why we need an understudy,” Asra mumbles. He lifts his head. “Well folks, that’s a wrap. Go change out of costume. I’ll tell the audience the show’s been postponed.”

You’re heart sank with Asra’s words. All of you had worked so hard to open with a dazzling performance, and now you’ll have to walk the entire audience back out the door. You glance over to Portia, expecting to find her disappointed. Instead, she’s looking straight at you with a strange grin on her face.

“Hey, Asra,” Portia says, waving her hand at the director. “Our prop master here can fill in for Nadia!”

Asra turns his head and stares at you. You blink. Giving Portia a nudge you whisper, “What are you talking about? There’s no way I can play Blair.”

“Of course you can,” she whispers back. “I’ve seen you mumble her lines backstage. You know this show front and back. You even acted out the part for me we went drinking at that pub down the street.”

Asra walks up to you, eyes flashing in curiosity. He looks you up and down. “Is she right?” he asks.

You swallow hard. Everyone is staring. As you survey the crowd, your eyes lock with Julian, who gives you a beaming smile.

“…Yes,” you say.

Asra claps you on the back. “Excellent! Portia, is there something they can wear?”

“Wait, that’s it?” you ask. “No run-through?”

“No time!” says Asra, already walking away. “Curtain opens in 15.”

The crowd gradually disperses, some giving you questioning looks as they pass. As Julian brushes past, he clamps a hand down on your shoulder and leans to whisper in your ear. “You’re going to be amazing,” he says. Before you have time to respond, he walks briskly toward the changing rooms.

Portia is back within a minute, and she helps you change into the opening costume. You steady your breathing as you run though the show in your head, making sure you know all of Blair’s lines and blocking. Eventually, Asra’s voice stirs you from your thoughts when he announces the change in cast to the audience.

The lights dim. You take a deep breath, then step onto the stage.

* * *

 Around you is a marketplace, stands filled with prop fruits and vegetables. You walk toward center stage, aware of dozens of eyes trained on you. “Let’s see, three apples,” you say as you begin plucking fruit from the stand and placing them in your bag. Upon grabbing the third apple, you intentionally let it roll from your fingers and across the stage floor. You gasp and begin chasing after the runaway fruit.

He’s already in place, just as you’d seen in every rehearsal. Julian bends down and scoops the apple from the floor, rubbing in clean on his sleeve. “I believe this is yours?” he asks, holding the fruit out to you.

For a moment you just stare at him, the line caught in your throat, but you recover quickly. “It is, thank you sir,” you say with a smile.

Julian steps closer to you, placing the apple in your hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he says. “I’m Damian.”

“Blair.” You meet his eyes and are surprised by their tenderness. He’s a damn good actor.

“Well, Blair, perhaps I’ll see-”

“Blair!” a voice yells from offstage.

Julian stiffens as another figure enters the scene. Lucio, dressed in much finer clothing than Julian, runs his eyes over the market.

“Ah. Chester, my fiancé,” you say with a grimace.

“Fiancé?” Julian catches your expression. He frowns, looking back up at Lucio. “I’ll make my leave, then.” He clasps your hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Blair.”

“And you, Damian.”

You start to slip your hand from Julian’s, but the actor isn’t letting go. As you give him a quizzical look, he bends down to plant a kiss on the back of your hand. An electric shock courses through your body. You don’t remember that in the script.

Without looking you in the eye, Julian turns on his heel and walks briskly offstage. You stare after him, dumbstruck, and barely notice when Lucio arrives at your side.

He looks down at you, eyebrow raised. “There you are. Were you speaking with someone?”

“No one,” you say.

Lucio looks over to where Julian exited the stage. “Hmm.” After a moment’s consideration, he turns and starts walking away. “Come along then. We need more than just apples.”

* * *

A couple scenes later, you’re sitting alone by the riverfront, the stage awash with flowing blue light. Your character just had a fight with Chester, and you’ve snuck out of the palace for some fresh air. Despite the stage lights and hard wooden floor, you find it surprisingly easy to imagine yourself sitting in the grass of a riverbank, listening to the rush of water.

You hear footsteps, but keep your gaze focused forward. A few seconds later, a voice speaks up from behind you. “Is this seat taken?”

You wipe a fake tear from your cheek and smile up at Julian. “Damian! I, ah, wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

Julian beams. “You remember! From the market.” He settles down next to you. “I always walk down to the river when I need to clear my head.”

“Me too,” you say, turning to face him.

Silence washes over the two of you, permeating the audience. You hope the man next to you can’t hear your heart pounding.

Julian clears his throat. “What is it, then?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Why do you need to clear your head?”

You let out a long sigh. “I’m not sure if you remember my fiancé…”

Julian clenches his jaw. “Vividly,” he growls.

A shudder passes through your body. “We had an argument. I needed to step away for a while.”

“Why are you engaged to him?”

You look up to meet Julian’s eyes, but he’s avoiding your gaze. “We were childhood friends,” you say. “He was always so kind to me.”

When Julian looks back at you, his eyes are hard and angry. “But is he now?”

You draw your legs to your chest. “What about you?”

“…Me?”

“What’s plaguing you?”

The actor studies you, his eyes washing over your curled form. He tenderly lifts your hand and brushes his lips against your knuckles. “Perhaps, one day, you’ll know.” Standing, he says, “I wish you all the best, Blair.”

You nod back, relieved you don’t have any more lines this scene. Your throat feels screwed shut.

That kiss wasn’t in the script, either. Asra will surely have notes about that later.

* * *

 As you step out into the light for the final scene, you’re amazed by how the stage has transformed. Classic, jovial music fills the space, and other actors dressed in gowns and tuxedos move around the floor. You’re dressed in a similar fashion, and are currently looking around for the friend who’d invited you to the party. Currently, she’s nowhere to be seen. You stand awkwardly for a moment before taking a seat, watching the other guests dance. Internally, you steel yourself for what you know will come next.

“May I have this dance?” says a familiar voice.

At your side once more is Julian, his arm outstretched in front of you. For the third time, you let him take your hand in his. “It appears we keep running into each other,” you say, the smile on your face quite genuine.

"So it does,” he says as he walks you to center stage. You feel every eye of the audience on you, and your blood runs cold as you make a realization. Even though you know all of Blair’s lines and blocking, you’ve always struggled with ballroom dancing. You may be familiar with the steps, but that doesn’t mean you’ve mastered them.

Julian turns to face you, one of his hands sliding across your back. He pauses, examining your face, and his theatrical smile falters for just a second. His expression softens and he leans forward, closer than he’s ever been. You feel his breath on your neck as he whispers in your ear.

“Don’t worry. I happen to be an excellent lead.” There’s a smile in his voice, and you realize this is purely Julian, the character of Damian fallen away. He leans back and flashes you a grin, then takes the first step.

Taking a deep breath, you follow his lead, the spotlight chasing the two of you as you twirl about the stage. Julian wasn’t joking – you barely have to focus on your steps with him as your guide.

“What brought you here today?” you ask, suddenly remembering your line.

Julian glances past you. “Well, I wasn’t actually…invited.” He looks back at you. “But I heard a rumor that someone would be here.”

“Is that so? They must be quite special.”

“They are.” A beat. “If I may ask, how are things with your fiancé?”

You hum. “He’s not my fiancé anymore.”

“Oh. Are you…?”

“Married? Heavens, no.”

Julian’s shoulders relax. “I see. I’m…sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be,” you say, voice firm.

The smile Julian gives you is unlike the others you’ve seen: warm, longing, and sickeningly sweet. You don’t remember seeing it in rehearsals.

“I suppose,” he says, “this is as good a time as any to ask-”

“ _BLAIR_.”

The orchestra putters out and Julian stops short. Even though this is scripted, it still takes you by surprise, and you end up crashing into his chest. He wraps an arm around you and glares across the stage. A few feet away stands Lucio, his costume wrinkled, his hair mussed, and his hand gripping a dagger. He catches your eye and begins stamping toward you. “ _No one_ calls off an engagement with _me_.”

Recognition passes across Julian’s face and he steps in front of you, crouching into a low stance. “You’re not going to lay a hand on them,” he says, practically snarling.

Lucio stops short, analyzing the scene. His lip curls, and he flips the dagger in his hand. “Watch me.”

Julian pushes you back as Lucio lunges, just missing his arm. Taking Lucio’s opening, Julian kicks out his leg, making contact with his thigh. Lucio gasps as Julian rushes forward. Just as Julian is about to leap into a tackle, Lucio swings his arm down, connecting with Julian’s shoulder. He hisses, fake blood soaking through his shirt.

“Damian!” You begin to rush forward, but Lucio is blocking your path. He grabs your wrist roughly and spins you around so your back is up against his chest. The edge of the dagger presses against your throat.

“Anything you’d like to say, my dear?” Lucio asks.

“Yeah,” you say. “I hope you have a good doctor.” With that, you drive your elbow into Lucio’s gut. He gasps in surprise, dropping the dagger to clutch at his stomach. You kick the blade, which skids to a stop at Julian’s feet. He grips it tight and pulls himself off the floor as you give Lucio a shove. Your assailant tumbles forward, and Julian takes a couple steps to meet him. He raises the dagger high and brings the hilt down on Lucio’s head, who promptly crumples to the floor, lying still.

Julian drops the dagger and rushes to your side, wrapping his arms around you in a smothering hug. “Are you hurt?” he mumbles, just loud enough for the audience’s ears.

“No, but,” you push away, looking at Julian from arm’s length. “Your shoulder.”

“Oh this?” He rolls his shoulder and winces. “It’s not so bad. I treat much worse every day.”

You blink. “You’re a doctor?”

He chuckles. “It appears we still have much to learn about each other.”

“Well,” you say, running your fingers along his arm, “we have time.”

Your heartbeat quickens as you look into his eyes. You know exactly what’s coming next, but that doesn’t mean you’re ready for it. Julian quirks a smile, tilting his head just slightly, and leans in. His lips are warm against yours, and softer than you’d imagined. You sigh and sink into him, and his arms wrap more tightly around you.

Eventually, you break the kiss. Julian is absolutely beaming, and you can’t help but laugh. You stand wrapped around each other as the curtain begins to close, the audience erupting in applause. Even after the curtain finishes its descent, you’re still in Julian’s arm. His persona of Damian is now completely gone, and you notice some blush creep into his cheeks. He looks down at the floor and opens his mouth to speak…

“Damian! Blair! What a _show_!” Asra says, practically dancing onto the stage.

You and Julian leap away from each other, exchanging a nervous smile. The actor straightens out his sleeve. “Thank you, Asra, but we both know this show couldn’t have gone on without our star,” he says, gesturing to you.

Asra walks up to you, clasping you on the shoulders. “You were _incredible_. I can’t believe that was your first time acting as Blair. The fire between you and Damian seemed so real!”

Julian starts coughing. You pray Asra can’t see your neck flush.

“In fact,” Asra says, “I’m looking for someone to fill the lead in my next show. Would you be interested?”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Y-yes! Yes of course!”

“Great! We’ll talk later,” Asra says, turning to leave. “Get some rest! You’ve earned it.”

As soon as Asra leaves, Julian walks over to you once more. He tugs at his collar. “Er. Earlier, during the ballroom scene,” he says, “I believe Chester’s entrance cut off my question.”

Puzzled, you play through the final scene in your head. “I don’t believe Damian ever gets to ask his question in the script,” you say.

“Well,” says Julian, “I suppose I’m going off-script, then.”

“As if that mattered to you before.”

That causes him to grin. “I just wanted to ask….would you like to grab a coffee? I know a wonderful little shop down the street.”

Your heart flutters in your chest. “Yeah,” you say, “I’d love that.”

Julian’s eyes light up. “Really? Well, I’ll go change. Meet you by the entrance in ten minutes?”

“I’ll see you there,” you say. Before Julian can leave, you tug on his sleeve, pulling him in for a peck on the cheek. You delight in seeing his face grow a shade darker. Ten minutes couldn’t go by fast enough.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second fic in a row with a ballroom dancing scene because I'm self-indulgent af
> 
> If you'd like to chat, you can find me at my tumblr: merle-casts-zone-of-truth


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